


Pain relief

by skriftlig



Category: House M.D.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-24
Updated: 2011-09-24
Packaged: 2017-10-24 00:25:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skriftlig/pseuds/skriftlig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>House is in pain and out of vicodin. He visits Chase.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pain relief

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the comm hpfemme_love in support of the amazing femmequixotic on Livejournal. ♥

The banging on the door is loud enough to wake the entire apartment block. Chase grumbles as he pulls on sweat pants and pads out of his bedroom into the hallway. The floorboards are cool against his bare feet and he's still bleary-eyed when he opens his front door and peers into the corridor outside. They sharpen pretty quickly when he sees the man leaning against the opposite wall.

House has on jeans, a grey t-shirt and a pissed expression. He pushes himself off the wall and takes a step forward, obviously expecting to come in. Chase stands his ground; 4 in the morning is not an acceptable time for a social call.

“House! What the hell are you doing here?”

House raises an eyebrow at Chase's naked torso, then goes back to leaning against the wall, and Chase doesn’t miss the slight wince as he uses his bad leg. He bangs his cane loudly against the wall again, ignoring Chase's pleas to stop, until one of Chase's neighbours opens her door and glares out at them.

Before she can demand what the fuck is going on, House turns to Chase and yells, “if you don't like the cane, you shouldn't have used an agency for crippled male hookers.”

The neighbour makes a sound of disgust and Chase sighs as he steps back to let House in. House clearly doesn't care who he pisses off tonight. Chase leads the way to the living room, sitting on a chair as House flops onto the sofa. House offers no explanation, but Chase has woken up enough by now to demand one.

“What do you want, House? And why can't you get it from Wilson?”

House rolls his eyes and sighs. “After last time, Wilson has this stupid no smoking pot rule.”

It takes Chase a second to catch up. “You came here to get stoned?”

“Duh.” House lets his head tip back against the sofa. His throat is angular and greying stubble runs over his jaw. It might be the light, but his eyes look like they have dark circles under them.

“I don't have any weed here, House.”

House doesn't move, but he lets out a low groan, whether from pain or annoyance, Chase isn't sure. He keeps quiet, just watches as House grabs his thigh, digging his fingers into his jeans in what looks like the world's most painful massage. When his whole leg starts shaking, Chase gives in.

“Seriously, House. Go get Cuddy or Wilson to get you more vicodin or something.”

“They won't.”

Chase nods, even though House isn't looking. “Right, so you came here because they turned you down.” He laughs as he says it, but he's not sure he managed to keep out the bitter edge.

House flips his head to the side and looks at Chase. “Yes. But also they don't offer the bonus sex with their drug taking.”

Chase just gapes at him, but before he can reply, House's lips curve into a smirk and he closes his eyes. He waves an arm at Chase.

“The sooner you get the pot, the sooner we get to the good times.”

“ _What?_ ”

“It's unfair if only Cameron gets all the fun.”

Chase knows he's not serious – can't be – and this is just House pushing him as usual. But he's out of his chair and opening the drawer with the little wooden box in anyway. To help a man in pain, he tells himself, it is his job after all. He flips the lid, pulling out the plastic wrap and pack of rizla and card for roach. When he glances quickly at House, sharp blue eyes are watching him intently.

It's been a while since he's smoked a joint, but his surgeon's hands are precise and soon he's rolling the rizla up and down in his fingers. He swallows to get enough saliva to stick the thing together and as his tongue sweeps along the paper, he catches House shifting in his seat.

House lifts his bad leg up to rest on the coffee table and pats the seat beside him. Chase hesitates for only a moment before he grabs an ashtray and lighter and heads over. He feels slightly self-conscious wearing just his sweat pants, but House has his eyes shut again and doesn't seem to care. Chase puts the joint between his lips and lights it. He takes a deep drag, relishing the taste as he sucks the smoke down into his lungs.

He nudges House, who opens his eyes, and passes the joint to him. He watches as House tokes on it, his cheeks hollowing even more than usual and his chest rising and falling under his t-shirt. They pass the joint between them in companionable silence, their deep breaths and slow exhaling accompanied by the occasional sound of a car passing on the street outside. House's leg has been still for a while now, and when Chase notices it shudder again, he reaches out and holds it. If House is surprised, he doesn't show it, just releases puffs of smoke into the room and lets Chase slowly and firmly knead the muscle through his jeans.

Chase feels the heady mixture of haziness and calm spread through him, but there's something exciting about sitting here with House. Chase has always loved House's attitude of doing whatever the fuck he wants, and tonight he feels like it has spread out to include him. A sort of buzz that, together, they can do anything tonight.

He feels his cock give a little twitch and he wonders if House is getting turned on too. Chase's hand is still massaging his thigh, but when he glances to House's crotch he can't see any obvious erection. The small sounds House makes as he smokes and the casual brush of their arms as they pass the joint all shoot straight to Chase's cock and pretty soon he's fully hard.

Eventually, House breaks the silence. “So, I guess we're clear who's topping.”

Chase chokes on the joint – House fucking waited for him to inhale then – and smoke rushes out of his mouth and nose. He takes it out of his mouth while he recovers, and it slides in his sweaty fingers. Fine, if House wants to play like this, then he will too.

“The only one of us who has the use of both his legs is topping.”

House snorts. “You realise there's more important things than your legs when you top.” House's hand slips down to his crotch and he cups the clear outline of his hard-on through his jeans. He should be shocked, but Chase's erection jumps between his legs. House reaches across with his other hand and plucks the forgotten joint from Chase.

“You bottom,” House tells him, taking a quick drag. “You're used to bending over for me.”

“You bottom,” Chase replies firmly. “You're used to not being able to walk properly.”

House chuckles at that, which annoys Chase. He doesn't think House is a tease, but his cock is getting desperate to be touched. Chase leans across, his heart thumping in his chest, and plucks the joint from House's mouth. As he turns to stub it out on the ashtray, he thinks he catches a smug gleam in House's eyes.

Apparently House isn't the kissing type – and isn't that a shocker – instead he grabs Chase's hand that's still on his thigh and moves it until it's covering his cock. Chase rubs his palm over the hard denim and House pushes his hips upward to meet him. House makes a low growl in his throat and Chase doesn't need any more encouragement.

He fumbles with the buttons on House's jeans but he's soon yanking them down as House lifts his hips up to help him. He tries to be careful not to hurt House's leg, but he's not at his most stable after the pot and the jeans get caught on House's sneakers. With an effort, House's shoes, socks and jeans end up in a pile on the floor. House's erection peeks out the side of his briefs and Chase slips his fingers under the fabric to stroke it.

House groans and his face scrunches in concentration. It's a face Chase has seen before when he'd worked for House – the little crease between his eyebrows and slow biting of his lips. But it's different seeing it on House from behind a glass wall and seeing it on House when he's half naked and lying on Chase's sofa. Fuck, he doubts if he'll ever be able to see it again without thinking of this night.

House pulls off his underwear as Chase moves across the room for lube, hopping out of his own sweats as he goes. He drags House across the sofa, thigh be damned, until he's lying on his stomach with his legs kneeling on the floor. Chase stands between them, forcing them a little wider, until he can see Houses's ass spread open in front of him, skin stretching from his balls up to his creased little hole.

He covers a finger in lube and runs it around the outside of House's entrance, watching House's fingers clench in the sofa. Slowly, he presses inside and House gasps, which turns into a strangled moan as Chase twists his wrist. He adds more lube and more fingers until he's got three as far as they will go inside House's ass.

He squeezes another portion of lube into his palm and coats his cock with it, lining up with House's stretched, wet hole. He pauses, wondering whether he should say anything, when House makes the decision for him.

“If it takes you this long, no wonder even Cameron ran out of patience.”

Chase pushes forward, a little rougher than he planned, and House's tight ring of muscle clenches around him. He looks down and sees House's asshole stretched around the tip of his cock. He drives in a bit further, and there's a familiar grunt of pain from House, which makes him pause, but House rocks himself backwards and the invitation is clear. Chase slams all the way in, gripping House's hips and smacking his balls against House's skin.

House makes no secret of using prostitutes, and Chase feels a stab of jealousy imagining another man do this. He drives forward, again and again, faster and deeper, and House slips down the sofa slightly, pushing his ass up and back toward Chase. House's hand slides between his legs and Chase watches his t-shirt shift rhythmically on his back as he stokes himself.

House is muttering something, but his voice is muffled by the sofa. Chase just concentrates on moving inside him, the squeeze of his body tight and slick and pushing him steadily toward orgasm. His fingers dig into House's hips and he sees the back of House's head, hair thinning and flecked with grey, before he shuts his eyes and comes.

He collapses on top of House's back, whose t-shirt is sticky with sweat, and rests his head on House's broad shoulders. House comes after a few more minutes, and Chase feels his hips jerking beneath him and hears an incoherent cry.

After a few more minutes, Chase pulls himself out. His softening cock is covered with a mixture of his own come and lube. He walks to the bathroom to clean up and for the chance to think what to do now. He splashes his face with water and examines his reflection in the mirror; his hair is stuck down to his forehead and his skin looks shiny and splotchy in the bright light. When he goes back to the living room, House is dressed, sitting on the sofa tying the laces on his sneakers.

He stands up when he's done, limping to where his cane has fallen to the floor. He rests heavily on it, looking at Chase. His t-shirt sticks to his chest in places and he's out of breath, a picture of having just been fucked. It's an image Chase would quite like to see again.

House smiles slightly, more to himself than at Chase, and moves to the hallway. Chase follows him, his cane clacking loudly on the wooden floor, and desperately tries to think of something to say. When House reaches the door he turns, so suddenly that Chase nearly walks into him, and Chase looks into his unreadable expression.

“My vicodin top up isn't for another two days.” He pauses and raises his eyebrows. “And tomorrow we're using the bed.”

Without waiting for a reply, House turns and walks out. Chase watches him limp down the corridor, smiling despite himself when House raps his cane on his neighbours' door.


End file.
